A Day in Skyrim
by DragonMaster269
Summary: Many things can happen in a day in Skyrim. You could find yourself fist-fighting a bear in your underwear. You could be Fus Ro Dah'ing people off cliffs for the hell of it. Here we have tales of the everyday Skyrim people. Well, not everyday lives...
1. The Argonian

_Chapter 1: The Argonian_

The cold air of the frost encrusted mountain tops in northern Skyrim blasted my face with a blow of frigid, relentless air. I had been traveling for a few days now trying to reach Dawnstar from Whiterun. These temperatures do not suit me well, that's for sure. An Argonian such as myself belongs in a marsh, not some mountain range belonging to the Nords. Sometimes I wonder why I even left Black Marsh. The journey proved harsh as I had to climb up the sides of the mountains rather than take the troll infested paths. I had noticed a considerable rise in their intelligence of late. This astonished me since their natural reaction to even seeing another living thing was to flail their arms like a Skeever with its head cut off. Anyway, it was late afternoon around Mundas at the time. Me and Derkeethus, my scale brother, recently ran out of mead and firewood. Our last food was a few stale pieces of bread I found in a barrel in an old cave and a Sweetroll that Derkeethus bothered me for nonstop. Derkeethus had suggested that I learn how to alchemize, but I disregarded it. Now I wish I hadn't.

As we reached the base of the current mountain we were traversing we noticed a small cave up ahead. My curiosity peaked and I had no choice but to go inside. A few horses were tied up outside which worried me deeply. Instinctively, I drew out my duel Ebony Blades and look back to assure my companion's readiness. Upon entering, we did not receive a welcome of savage bandits or falmer, but a few travelers who had the same idea as us. They welcomed us to sit and relax by the fire. I was deeply surprised by this! Most Nords think of us Argonians as thieving pond scum. We did as told. They started to ask us where we were from and Derkeethus answered for me. He knew my regular plan to inspect our surroundings and figured I should not be bothered. As my amphibious eyes skimmed the cracks and crevices of the cave something caught my eye. I saw a hole no bigger than a septim that repeatedly let out a droplet of clear glacial water. It was not much of a discovery, but if focused my mind for a bit. I turned it into a little game of guessing the time between the next droplet. It entertained me for some time until I was shaken out of my trance by the man next to me. A bottle of mead was thrust into my hands and into that of my friend's. I drank mine, but watched as the man regarded me with disgust. I overheard a faint whisper about boots and lizards. I was used to the normal racism of Skyrim. It's sure of a hell lot better than the racism received by those damned Dunmer. Me being who I am, I confronted the man on his comment. He spat in my face and said,

"Pipe down, you salamander."

My first instinct was to jam my 1 ½ inch claws into his eyes, but Derkeethus stopped me. He covered for me by mentioning that I have some anger issues and that everyone was entitled to their opinions about each other.

Some time went by and the Nord's stories filled the air with echoes of laughter, joy and sorrow. One man told of how he had joined the Stormcloak army and that he was part of an attack on Fort Dunstad to the south of our location. Apparently, he had gotten lost from his group in the celebration afterwards and strayed from the trail. He was welcomed into the cave same as us. Another person had a sullen tone in his voice as he described his home in Windhelm. He talked of his beautiful wife, Ingrid, and how she made the best horker loaf that you could ever taste. His story also told of him teaching various things to his son, such as how to skin an elk and how to shoot a bow. This made me homesick as well. I had a wife that I left behind, Juukravia, the most beautiful woman of the entire tribe. We wed and were together to this day. However, ongoing struggles between our people and the Imperials made her uneasy and saddened. She believed Black Marsh to not be the place we should raise our hatchling. I was outraged by this because of Argonian tradition. If we were to move, our son would never receive the sap of the Hist trees. She, however, believed that tradition should go fuck itself. I argued and argued until I finally gave in to her wishes. She said she had friends up in Orsinium, an orsimer province. This threw me into an even larger rage. I suggested we move to Skyrim, the only province I knew of that wasn't Imperial and that was a mix of various races. I had a cousin who worked in the Riften Docks that I said we could live with but she did not agree. Juukravia knew of the assassination of the High King by Ulfric Stormcloak and foresaw a war in the making. I left that night in anger towards my dear wife. Sometimes I wonder what has become of my child. I only wish I could've been there for their birth. However I could not back out of Argonian tradition. It is just our way. However, I wonder what would've become if I had take that road. We did honor the vow to be together now and forever. Even today, about a year since I left, I still lay weeping in my quarters over my family. My hopes are that my son or daughter know of their father. If anything, Juukravia should've told them only good things about me. She would never put a child through such mental torture. I might return to Black Marsh someday and inquire of her fate. For now, my destiny lies in Skyrim.

Once I came out of my flashback filled trance, another story was told of how a man shot an arrow between an Imperials eyes from 60 yards away. The men roared with laughter at the achievement. I turned to see that Derkeethus had lightened up as well. He was laughing the same as them. I had not noticed that everyone was telling storied in the circle that we sat. Apparently, it had come to be my turn. Nords glared at me left and right. I had not any tale I wished to share with racist bastards such as them. I decided I'd make up a tale anyway to break the ice. I started on how I found a huge cave bear in the woods that nearly killed me. However, before I could even continue, one of the men said,

"Yeah, yeah, that's nice. OK, on to you, Harn! Didn't you say you had a glorious story of the time you met a feisty dame at the Bannered Mare?"

This so-called "Harn" boasted out with his story as if it was an accomplishment. He told of meeting a woman that he found to be attractive. A natural blonde, she was a very beautiful lass in her mid twenties. She had curves that could "rival even Lady Mara's figure", according to him. He took her to his room and found her to be a mage who used magic to morph her figure. Once a voluptuous prostitute, an old hag now sit upon his lap with magic pointed at him. He took a dagger and thrust it in her heart before she could react. Little did he know that the magic was a euphoria educing magic to make things more pleasurable. Also, it seemed that the hag form was the transform after all. All in all, he killed a prostitute who pulled a joke on him. Apparently he was kicked out of Whiterun for such an act and was forced north. He figured the ladies would be better in Dawnstar. The Nords laughed and cackled at the shenanigans of their fellow. After all stories had been told and the mead was all gone, it was time for rest. They all shifted into their bed rolls and fell into a deep sleep. I was troubled by the tales told by these common delinquents. Their ideals of a fun time included death, misery and many things of a sexual nature. However sexual activities can be fun, death and such are not. I felt as a sheep in a room of wolves. I lay my head down to notice Derkeethus passed out with the foam from the mead dripping from his mouth. I laughed at my friend and figured he enjoyed the time, even though he was discriminated against. He had always been more lenient on things such as these. After all, he has lived in Skyrim for much longer than I have. I suppose the differences are something you get used to. Soon I found my eyelids to be heavy and I passed off into a land of my own mind.


	2. Dreams of a Life Long Lost

_Chapter 2: Dreams of a Life Long Lost_

That night I dreamt of my darling Juukravia. It was at the time when I proposed to her. We were in the mangroves of flowers and luscious grass. This was the only shining beacon of beauty inside our muck filled Black Marsh. I had brought a lunch and we ate while talking about our day. Somehow I had coaxed her into talking about a life we could possibly have together. She grew fond of the idea and admitted to have pondered it over herself. We talked of little hatchlings scampering around across the deck while we lived together 'till death. At that moment, I presented her with my ancestral Argonian wedding band. It was gold and silver laced with 3 flawless diamonds within each gem indent. I knew her favorite gemstone was diamond and I strove to find them. It took a matter of ages to find them in a land such as Black Marsh. I had to use my contacts at the trading warehouse down in Archon to order them from off-province. It took a long time, but It was worth it to see my darling's face when she saw it. Almost immediately she answered yes in a low tearful tone. I grabbed her in happiness, kissed her and carried her to the nearest wedding chapel. That day was the happiest of my life. Then, the memory changed and faded. I was now surrounded in darkness, in what seemed to be marsh water. There was some algae and moss on the topmost layer of the water. The trees hung down like dark, shadowy beasts. A sense of impending doom ran down my spine, sending a shiver throughout my nerves. I wadded out of the water and to the shore only to see my house. I walked in and saw myself. I was yelling and flailing maddened gestures around. I diverted my eyes from the sight, for I knew what this was. I could hear my beloved yelling and crying at my darkened memory about thinking of the child. My mind was set and I was outraged. I heard a piece of furniture flip, a loud scream and the door slam shut. All was quiet except for a whisper. A faint sobbing was heard from inside. I opened my eyes to find my figure walking away from the house hitting trees with my bear fists. I reached for my face and found tears running down its scaled and roughened texture. A sank down to a mess onto the front deck. I wept like a man would never weep. I always knew what it was that I had done, but I never once thought of the other side of the situation. The door opened and out came the sorrowed Juukravia. Tears also ran down her face as well. I stood up and went to hug her, telling her how sorry I was. I only phased through her and into a spiraling abyss in my mind. All the terrible things I had done, all the wrongs I had made, all of this torture yelled and screamed at me in loud, high pitched voices. I could only yell for it to stop. I repeated it over and over, hoping it would make a difference. In the darkness, I saw my love's face in a beacon of light. She was smiling, a vision I had long forgotten. I walked towards it as the horrid memories formed as ghost-like figures and grappled me, trying to tear me from the past and keep me in a prison of depression. I fought and fought until I broke free.

I awoke with a gasp as I reentered the land of reality. My friend, Derkeethus, was shaking my arm yelling at me. I could not understand his sayings as my mind was still focused on the dream. I felt his hand punch me in the face. That broke me out of this state of mind and I went to strike him back. He told me to stop and to survey my surroundings. Upon looking around, I saw all the men to be gone. Everything from their bed rolls, their supplies and even the fire pit itself was gone. I suggested that they just left. Then, I was told to check my own things. Right next to where I slept was a void of emptiness. My things had been taken as well as Derkeethus'. I flew into a rage, cursing them out in anyway I could think of. I was told that the spot the fire once sat was still warm, signifying that they are not too far away. I picked up my dagger, which I always carry on my person and went off to find these deceitful bandits.

We followed the trail of crunched shoeprints in the 14 inch deep snow. They seemed to head towards Dawnstar, but they came to a stop. All the footprints split into 6 separate tracks. They had most likely split the loot and went their own ways to con some more innocents. Darkeethus and I decided to split up from this point. He would follow the 3 tracks that swayed to the East while I would follow the 3 tracks to the West. I bid him farewell and good luck. I watched as he climbed a mountainside. He slipped and fell backwards in a humorous fashion. I cackled to myself and went on my way. I crossed the barren wasteland of ice and snow for what seemed to be hours. Without my insulated armor, the 20 below degrees weren't kind on me.

I tracked the prints to a small encampment outside of Dawnstar. The bandits were all gathered there, all 6 of them. I realized they must've made the other tracks as a safety maneuver. It was clever, I will admit, but my scale brother is out there now following a false track. I grew even more angry, but reminded myself to keep my cool. Silently, I unsheathed my dagger from its spot and readied it for combat. My initial analyzing of the camp showed a group of bushes and trees in the back of the camp, close to their tent. My body went low to the ground and I sneaked over into position as quietly as I could. Luckily, they never even noticed me over their laughing at their latest victory. I improvised a quick plan in my mind. My hand reached for a rock which I threw into their tent. The rock went in and made a loud crackling noise. Almost on queue, they all got out their weapons and turned to the tent, ready to fight. However, I was quicker. I had placed myself behind the tent. One of the men, I believe the one who killed the prostitute, slowly crept up to the tent. The blood in my veins was boiling with anger. All I wanted was to slit this fool's throat. He went into the tent. I raised my dagger in preparation. A sound, one that resembled a _ZIP _noise followed before I could attack. The man dropped with a thump. Through the fabrics in the woven wool of the tent, I could see an arrow struck him in the back of the head. From the other end of the camp I heard,

"Score one for the pond scum."

None other than Derkeethus stood there with his bow already drawn with another arrow. Immediately, all the bandits rose to combat him. He picked one off with a headshot as fast as he could. I ran out from my cover yelling in a compellation of mixed emotions. I deflected an incoming blade with my dagger and stabbed a man in the neck. I went to strike the bandit thrashing to attack me, only to find an arrow in him as well. The other two fled into the environment, but I suspected another trap. Derkeethus ran to my vicinity and picked up his looted equipment while I stood watch. Once he was suited up, I did the same. As I grabbed my armor, a sharp pain hit my shoulder. It felt as if a lightning bolt had hit my nerves and sent a burning sting throughout my body. However it was no lightning bolt. I turned to see an arrow protruding from my skin. Just as I noticed the arrow, I heard another arrow shot and felt the same kind of pain. The noise sounded once more and I rolled out of the way. No arrow hit me, but I heard something fall from the trees. Derkeethus had located the archer and sniped him out. I thanked him and raised my hands to cast a Healing spell on the injured areas. Slowly but surely the wounds healed. I turned my head to see Derkeethus with his guard down. A shadow from behind him lunged and stabbed a sword into his chest. Right at the moment the sword made impact, I had thrown my own sword which stuck into the bandit's neck. The barbaric bastard fell to the ground, as did Derkeethus. I ran right over and started to cast Healing Hands on him, but the wound had hit vitals. He coughed up blood as he said his last words,

"Hell of a run, wasn't it, Has'kar?"

Then all was silent. The last breath could be heard retreating from Derkeethus' body. I had no idea what to think. So many things were running through my mind. The sword in my hand dropped to the ground and I flew into an uncontrollable rage. I punched and kicked at the bodies of these bandits laying at my feet. I grabbed my dagger and butchered their bodies, stab after stab went into their unloving flesh. Once I finally came to, nothing but a mangled mess of organs and limbs were there. In my mind, I knew that it was not right to desecrate the bodies of the dead. However, I had no pity or mercy for those who killed my friend, my scale brother. I stood over the dead bodies in deep thought. I said a prayer for Derkeethus in Jel, the Argonian native language, and walked off to the path after burying him. I didn't even bring my things from the camp with me.


	3. Stay Alive, No Matter What

_Chapter 3: Stay Alive, No Matter What_

I knew in the back of my mind that I was walking along a path. I just could not focus on where the stone-paved trail was leading me. In despair, I had just walked out of the forest in a sort of spectral trance. Nothing around me seemed to exist. _I just saw my friend, my scale brother, die right in front of me just now…. _were my thoughts. I held myself accountable for his death. I could've taken that bandit down had I been more agile and attentive. As I walked, I looked down at my chilled scale-studded skin. I ran my fingers across the indents between each separated scale and crevice. I knew I had to try to think otherwise to at least survive the night. Every now and then I could swear that I heard a growling behind me, but I never even checked. After what I had been through, I'd welcome death with open arms. Sometimes, during that trip, I wished that creature would've killed me. It never did. The divines must have other plans for me. My role is still as a pawn in their oversized game of chess on our land.

After quite some time of walking, I didn't know how long, I saw Dawnstar in the distance. With the might I had left in me, I walked into town and up the steps to the Windpeak Inn. As I walked inside, all eyes went towards me. All laughter faded away at the sight of me. My first reaction was that they were appalled at the sight of an Argonian. I said in a spiteful but shivered tone,

"W-w-what, never s-seen an Arg-g-gonian before?"

I myself silenced after hearing myself. My voice was hoarse and broken. I sounded like the noise that a horse and a Skeever would make if they were both on fire, if you can picture that. Apparently, it was not only my voice that was astonishing. Once they made no attempt to say anything and just stared at me, I looked down. My skin and face were covered in frostbitten blisters. My once shadow-colored scales were now an unhealthy and pale bluish-white. Seeing myself in such a state put me in a panic as well. How could I have been so stupid to let my depression hinder my common sense! I had read about the effects of the cold in Skyrim and conditions caused by them. The bartender started to shuffle through different potions trying to find one that would work. The windy frozen air must've frozen my ear-holes because I only saw moving mouths. They were talking about something to do with the potions, as the woman bartender kept pointing at me and then to the potion, then to a map in a Northeastern area. The male bartender nodded and took me by the arm in the direction of the door. Not being in my right mind from the settling Hypothermia, I yanked my arm from his grip. My mind interpreted it as them trying to throw me out. Again, I saw moving mouths at me, trying to explain or inquire something. I heard the rumbled muffling of me saying that I couldn't hear them in my head. The male bartender must've cursed and then hit a table. The woman bartender scowled at him and got me a bottle of mead. It was thrust into my hand, which immediately dropped the bottle. It shattered and a piece of glass must've lodged into my foot. I did not even feel it until I was told to sit down and actually saw it in there. At that time, I knew I was fucked up. Once more, the female bartender put another bottle of mead into my hand and moved my fingers around it to clench it. I stared at it, wondering why my fingers were of their own state of mind. This puzzled me dearly, but I still managed to start taking gradual sips of the mead with the help of the female bartender. I could feel my insides starting to feel warmer as I drank more and more. I soon found myself gulping down the mead hoping for the chill to go away. I was given a blanket and was wrapped around. I regained some of my hearing back, but still had damage to my hands, feet, and body. My ears picked up a small chatter from the male bartender,

"Not…..king….no pot…ons…taki… to Winte…..ld."

He put on a jacket and went outside to do something. His muffled saying made no sense. I didn't know what to think. I could hear a carriage pull up with some horses. The man walked back in, freezing cold even from being out there for more then a minute. I, again, took to looking at my own hands. I could hardly even recognize them. Their fingertips and knuckles were swollen and disfigured. My fingers were clenched into a messed up claw shape that even I thought funny. I chuckled to myself at the thought and found everyone to turn towards me.

"Mus…..tting deliri….s" was heard by me from a Nord on the other side of the room.

My shoulder was shaken by the male bartender, whom I struck at thinking him to be an enemy. I quickly realized him to be the same person he was a couple minutes ago and stopped. He found me an old torn blanket he had laying around in an old wardrobe of his. I was wrapped in it along with the 1st blanket I was given. He pulled me by the wrist outside into the mid-Winter snow. Upon leaving the confines of the Inn, the horrible front of freezing air hit me in the face with enough force to put an Orc on his ass. I was rushed into the back of the coach and the male bartender took the reigns. I put two and two together from the conversation before. He had been talking about potions and something about Winter. My first idea was that I was being taken to some town that had potions, however I knew not what town it was. Winter could've been mistaken for the man to have been talking about the season. It was currently the middle of Morning Fall and the weather was at its peak.

My eyes started to get heavy under the pressure of being in the cold. The torn, ripped blanket I was given didn't do much to keep me warm. My breath could clearly be seen with each huff. I noticed that the clouds of my respiration were not that big. I didn't think about it at all, but I found myself to have a shortness of breath. Our buggy came around the bend of a path built into the cliffs. The ocean was to our left and I made out a faint structure in the distance. It seemed to have its own island. That was when my brain decided to kick in. We had rode from Dawnstar to Winterhold. I was now looking at the College of Winterhold, with its blue dimly colored beams and array of bridges to the ruins of the town below. If we were heading to the college, I knew something must be seriously wrong with me. Before I had anymore thoughts on the matter, I fell to a sleep right where I sat.


	4. Retribution

_Chapter 4: Retribution_

I awoke a while later on a puffed up bed with an actual mattress. It was my first time ever laying on something other than animal hides and bare rock. The freezing sensation had numbed, but I knew that it was still there. I remembered seeing the College of Winterhold before my falling asleep. My eyes drifted around the room which had comforting furniture and a soft glow of light from a beam of blue light outside the room in the center of the chamber. I lay there for a few minutes pondering what had happened to me.

A female High Elf came into the room. She had blonde hair, as most High Elves do, with two ponytails and a robe. She said nothing and checked my body over. I looked at my arms and noticed my scales were not the frozen color they once were. Some parts were still of that color, but the rest had turned back to their original shade of black. The frostbitten blisters that littered my scales had started to dissipate. In between the cracks of my scales lay hardened blood from my frozen scales. The blood from Derkeethus that splattered onto me was now washed off of my hands and face. They had washed me and healed me somehow. I made an attempt to talk to this stranger of a woman.

"Who are you", I croaked out. My voice had healed from it's hoarse state and was almost normal. It contained a raspy tone that one would get the next day after a night of drinking ale.

"I am Foralda, I work here at the College.", she responded in a professional fashion. "Can you bend your appendages for me?" I followed and lifted my arm which immediately cramped up and wouldn't move.

"You have Rockjoint.", she told me. I didn't know how it was that I got it. I thought back and remembered that those bandits had wolf carcasses in their cave we stayed in. Either we caught the airborne disease or they dipped their arrows in diseased wolf blood. Foralda gave me a simple potion to drink. It helped me regain the mobility in my arms and legs after some time. I was instructed to try to sit up. I did as told.

"You seem to be healing fine. The frostbite will go away within a few days. You can walk around if you'd like, that is, if you can walk. Just don't touch anything.", she walked out of the room and down the stairs in a hallway to the right. My current apparel was torn up rags and trousers. An outfit had been laid out for me on the chair beside the bed. A hole had been cut out for my tail. It seemed like an expensive garment and it must've been a shame to ruin it. I donned the robe and shoes set out and walked to the center of the tower. I stared down through the upper balcony to a pool of a blue liquid-like substance. I knew not if Magicka could take a physical form, but if this is the College then it could be so. The other rooms were empty of any students, but full of books and papers scattered amongst the floors. I believed they were off learning magic or whatever it is that they do. I walked down the stairs to be greeted by a short older woman. She told me her name was Mirabelle and explained what had happened.

"Normally, we would've charged septims to heal you. You will be ok to leave by midday and can go free of charge.", she said.

"Why was I treated for free?", I asked puzzled at the reason why.

"Some time ago we had an Argonian study here for a time. You don't see many of your kind around here in Skyrim. Something about you reminded us of her.", she explained.

Normally, I'd have taken that as her calling me reminiscent of a female Argonian, but I knew what she meant. I thanked her for her hospitality and gathered my things from a table they had out. It had my dagger, some of my armor which was dented and cut, my journal that I kept records of my days in, Derkeethus' bloodied bow and some scattered pieces of meats and cheese. I checked the last page in the book to find the scetching of my love, Juukravia, that I had drawn one night when I could not sleep.

I opened the double doors to the frozen courtyard of the College. A statue of what appeared to be a mage stood in the center with snow hitting it from all angles. I was notified that a carriage awaited at the end of town to take me wherever I pleased. I thanked them again and was on my way, the particles of snow bashing my face at every turn. I reached the end of town in a couple minutes. The snow made it tough for me to travel by foot. The phrase "Slower than an Argonian in a blizzard" finally clicked in to me. I climbed in back and ordered the man to take me to Darkwater Crossing. I had to honor Derkeethus' death before anything else.

A few hours passed and we came up to the mine. The man dropped me off and headed for Whiterun. A Stormcloak soldier scorned at me when I passed by. I never cared for the Stormcloaks and same to the Imperials. I was neutral in this land of worship and bloodshed. Annekke Crag-Jumper greeted me upon entering. I had gotten to known her well after saving Derkeethus' behind from a Falmer cave. She hugged me and asked of Derkeethus. My facial expression must've been grim, for she frowned as well. She asked again in a stern voice what had happened. I couldn't find the words myself, so I handed her his blood covered Hunting Bow.

"I always knew that buffoon would get himself killed someday", she said. I felt like tearing her apart then and there. Who was she to comment on his death in such a tone! My friend, my scale brother, died and you scorn his soul in such a way? I would've killed her had it not been for my knowing her and my moral code. She announced the others gathered around the fire that Derkeethus was no longer with us. Sondas Drenim was the most affected of the group. He had known Derkeethus long before I had and was the person that first mentioned to me that he had gone missing. He showed no weakening emotion, but was clearly distressed. He turned to me, the fires of Morrowind burning within his very eyes.

"How could you! How could you let him die! He was undeserving of this fate! Why did you ever have to get him into your shit anyway!", he shouted at me. I responded in the same tone,

"He was my friend too! Don't you think I feel bad? If I could've saved him I would've! I did what I could. It's just that… my best wasn't enough", my voice faded out in sadness and empathy. Sondas seemed to understand my predicament. He ordered the others to gather around in the woods. We found the biggest tree and laid his bow at it's trunk. Sondas said something below his breath, something religious, and wished him eternal rest in his afterlife. I did so too and waited for them to disperse. I was alone at the makeshift grave. I knelt down and spoke to the bow as if it was Derkeethus himself,

"Well old pal, this is how it ends. I know you wouldn't have it any other way, you defending me and all. I still can't help but blame this on myself. I hope that the Hist guides you in your death and that you find peace…" My voice was starting to crack. "How could I have been so inattentive! I could've saved you but…. I wasn't able to. I remember how you talked about getting a house back in Black Marsh after enough gold was made from mining. I promise you, I will buy that house for you. It shall house my family, should I ever find them again. I know that's how you'd want it, defending my kin even in death. May the Hist strengthen you, my scale brother." I felt the tears drip down my face, but I did not bother to wipe them away. I sat there at that grave for hours, remembering all the good times. All those times however, all ended up to the same event. My fist clenched and I stood up. Without bidding farewell, I walked off down the path to pummel the living crap out of the first bandit I encountered.


	5. Coming Home

_Chapter 5: Coming Home_

The body of a Khajit bandit lay on the side of the road, dripping with blood. He moaned periodically and did not dare move from his spot. I kept walking, my knuckles dripping with blood, not knowing my purpose in life anymore. There was not much else for me in this land of ice and war. I saw no viable way of getting gold anymore. Everything in life just seemed to make no sense anymore. I sat under a tree by the road, pondering what it was I could do next. I wiped the dried tears from my face and started messing around with the dagger I had on me. When I lived in my homeland of Argonia, I was quite the master of daggers. I tried a few tricks that still lived on in the back of my mind. The shining blade spun and twirled with each flick of my wrist. I stopped and thought for some time. Flashbacks flooded my mind. Some good, most bad. Many were from my childhood. I remembered the day my father had first shown me how to wield a blade. It was when I was a few years older than a hatchling.

The damp swamp air dragged down all life in the marsh. Everything from the plants to the trees sagged down in sorrow and joy. Insects rejoiced in the humidity and flew around in clouds of disease. I sat by the edge of the docks, my small scaled feet swishing and swashing back and forth in the murky water. It was one of the only places I could find peace and tranquility in life. Water always calmed me, just seeing how it had a mind of it's own. Each wave and ripple glided across the surface. Animals of all kinds made it their home. I felt a nibble on my toe. My eyes gazed down to see a small mudfish exploring the texture of my feet. I laughed at it's innocence and curiosity. It swam away only to be swallowed by a slaughter fish. I pulled my feet out of the water immediately, wanting to keep my toes how they were. I heard footsteps on the creaky wood of the dock. Heavy and firm were the steps, the steps of a hard working and stressed man. I turned to see my father in his armor that he kept under the floorboards of the house.

"Son, there's something we need to talk about…" he said in a sullen tone. I was stricken with feelings of worry.

"Have I done something wrong, father?" I asked in my high pitched voice. My voice always bothered me as a child. Everyday I hoped it would get deeper and mature like the voices of the elders.

"Oh, no son. You have done nothing bad." He chuckled a bit at my inquiry. "I just came to..uhh… tell you that daddy's going on a long trip." His voice deepened with sadness, I could hear it very clearly.

"Where are you going?" I asked. "Are you going on a vacation?"

He laughed. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. I'm going with some of the others from our village."

"Can I come?" My eyes lit up with happiness. I always wanted to do something special with my father. We'd done things before like fish and walk the trails of the swamp, but his mind always seemed to be somewhere else. Every night at supper, he had a grim and stressed look about his face. He and mother would always stay at the table after I had gone to bed. They talked about things, things that I could not understand. He spoke of "Imperials" and other terms I had no clue about. It always seemed he was filled with trouble. I'd tried to ask what bothered him so much and he just replied "Ah, I had a bad day hunting today is all. Don't worry, Has'kar. I'm perfectly fine" He'd say and force a smile upon his face. I knew something was wrong and that he didn't want me to know.

"No, I'm sorry son, but this is something only us elders can do." He replied. "However, there is something I wanted to show you before I go." He pulled out a small dagger and a sword that was hand crafted and engraved with many tribal designs of our village. "Today, I show you how to wield a blade." What luck! I always wanted to learn how to use a sword just like the elders do in their spare time. I grabbed the hilt of the sword and tried a few of the techniques I'd seen the others doing. My father stopped me.

"Whoa now! You don't want to go chopping off limbs just yet, do you? You can't just go hacking and slashing like a madman." He pulled out his own sword and showed me basic slashes. "See how my arm stays in a firm line when I slash? The sword must be an extension of your arm. It must flow with your body, your soul." He slashed more, starting slow and graceful, then faster and more vigorous swipes. I was amazed at the skills he possessed. I took into mind what he had told me and tried on my own. Again, my wrist wobbled and twisted with each slash, making the sword twist and turn. He stopped me and grabbed my arm. He moved it in the proper way for a few slashes. Then he let go of me. I kept going, slashing the same way he did. It brought a smile to my face.

"There you go! You're a fast learner, aren't you? I think that's enough for the sword." He took it from me and handed me a dagger with my name on the blade. "Let's try something smaller. Try using this with the same technique as the sword." I did as he said. "See how this blade moves faster? It's more efficient when you need to be faster than your foe, but not as damaging." He showed me a few tricks he had picked up over the years. I mirrored them in amazement. He smiled and patted me on the back. He then hugged me and told me he loved me no matter what. His voice grew distressed. I told him I loved him too and he walked from the docks to our hut by the lake. He hugged my mother and she cried for some odd reason. I could not hear what they said, but she walked with him to the entrance of the village gate. She bid him farewell and he went on his way down the path to a carriage filled with other elders dressed in armor. I asked another hatchling if he knew where they were going.

"You don't know?" He asked, puzzled. "They're going to the battlefront."

Battlefront? I didn't know what he meant in the least. "What battlefront?"

"Where we're fighting the Imperials, duh. Argonia's in a war, if you haven't noticed."

Everything suddenly made sense. I collapsed to my knees and started to cry. I didn't want my father to leave and die! I quickly got up and ran to the gate, hoping to stop it from going to war. I tripped on a dip in the road and lay there, watching my father ride away.

I never did see him again after that day.

My mind came back to me as I sat under the tree. I became focused on the world around me once more. I stared down at the dagger with my name on it and sheathed it. I got up and decided what I'd do. I walked the trails up to Windhelm and took the wagon to Solitude. I headed down to the docks where I received many foul stares from Imperial Dock Workers. I found an Argonian who owned a ship of his own. I was told before I left my homeland that if I ever wanted to return home, he would be the man to see.

"Hello, scale brother. Is there something I can help you with?" He asked in an old, raspy voice. He was dressed in a simple set of clothes, torn and ripped here and there. You could see indents on his horns and face, a sign of age in Argonian society. As we grow old, our horns grow more feeble and lines of crevices start to erode in. His scales were an oddly light blue, not as blue as the sun, just a little lighter than a standard dark blue. I was surprised that one of our kind lived to be his age out in this frozen land.

"Yes, my friend. I was told that you are the person to see about returning to Saxhleel?" I said.

"Indeed I am."

"I… have lost all reasoning in my mind to stay in this land…. I've grown tired of its ways. How much would a trip cost?"

"Normally, 500 gold. But for you, I'll knock it down to 450."

"That is very kind of you to do, but I will pay the full 500 gold anyhow."

He took the money from my hand with a warm smile on his face. He showed me to a room below deck that I would be staying in during the voyage. It was small and cozy, nothing fancy. An authentic piece of Argonian cloth was hung on the wall. I ran my fingers across it, seemingly flowing on its smooth and nostalgic stitching. I remembered a hobby of my mother's was to knit when father went off to hunt with the other adults. I used a blanket she had knit for me almost my entire life back in Argonia. I brought it with me to Skyrim. Two days in, it was ripped to shreds by a wolf. I sighed. Yet another thing that Skyrim had taken away from me. I thought about Derkeethus and said another prayer for him in Jel. I packed away my armor and weapons in the chests given. With no hesitation, I insisted that we set sail as soon as possible. Not long after, our sails were set and our heading was made. The only passengers on the ship were the captain of the ship, two Argonians that were his crew, an Argonian woman whom I had not talked to and another Argonian dressed in Bandit armor. I would have killed him had my conscious not told me that maybe he was returning home to change himself. As I stood on the deck of the wooden ship, with the water spraying in my face, I watched the mountains and snowy terrain of Skyrim grow ever so small. I knew that I was leaving part of myself behind by leaving Skyrim. There were many things I enjoyed about the land, things like drinking mead at the Inns, hearing tales from travelers about Dwarven ruins and caves they had explored, and listening to all the music that Skyrim had to offer. If it was not a nation built with blood and snow, it would be quite a good place to live. But, I grew weary of it, even still. I went below deck and lay on my already messed up bed. The next month of living on a ship would not be very easy for me.

Many days went on the same way. We all kept to our rooms most of the time, occasionally going to the upper deck for some fresh air. Little conversation was made with the other Argonians on board. Only one day, probably the 15th day or so, the female Argonian asked why I was returning to Argonia. I told her that Skyrim had left me as a shadow of my former self. She understood me to an extent. Her child died of starvation. They lived at the Windhelm docks and the Nords apparently treated them very badly to the point that they had no food. I agreed that the humans could be very cruel at times. We are all made of flesh and blood, yet somehow we are different. It shouldn't matter that we are "beasts", living beings are living beings. The humans just can't see that like we do. Maybe they aren't enlightened enough. Maybe we are too naïve. Whatever it may be, the world could do with some damn equality here and there.

The captain announced to us all one morning that we would be approaching Black Marsh that day. He needed not to tell me, as I could feel the climate change right as I awoke. The air was a muggy, humid consistency. The smell of the marsh was flowing through the air. The water turned to its dark hue that I was so familiar with. Many different fish swam through the waters, curious as to what the boat was. Sailing into Black Marsh that day was the happiest I had been in seven years. I could feel all the memories coming back, the anticipation of taking a step onto the damp soil. I would, for once in my life, receive a warm welcome from someone. At last, I could see the skyline of the Marsh. Massive trees and underbrush surrounded the small docking village that we headed to. As I stepped off the boat, a dock worker patted me on the shoulder and welcomed me back to the land of the Hist. I got my things and took a carriage to the town I grew up in, surprised to see it was still in existence. Many things rushed through my mind about what could happen. I thought about what would happen if I had met Juukravia. Oh, how I pondered what I could say to ever make her forgive what I had done. I knew it might never happen, but I wondered if I could make it up to her. I had a decent sum of gold from my time in Skyrim, we could build a home and start a new life, just her and I. My mind snapped out of the fantasy it was stuck in as I remembered my family. My mother had probably passed away, my father probably a rotting corpse with a blade in the chest. I never knew what became of my brother, Jiiktar. He went to Cyrodiil to make an honest life for himself. Only the Hist knows what became of him.

The carriage came to a rolling stop at the entrance of the village. It was exactly as I remembered it. The wooden path over the river into town was still rickety and faded as always. The animals were all making the same familiar sounds they had made when I was a child. I was finally home, where I belonged. I decided the first place for me to visit would be my old house. I crossed the village, waving to those whom I recognized. I came to my old home, but I saw something was not right. It seemed occupied. The doors were shut, some windows had ragged curtains and a few plants were out front by the steps. Something was indeed not right here. I knocked on the door waiting to see the asshole they had sold my family's home to. Then the door opened.

It was my father.

Words could not express what I felt at that time and moment. He looked exactly as I remembered him, down to every indent and scale on his face. He had a few new scars, but that was all I could see new. For a moment, we both just stood there, speechless. He finally said,

"….. Has'kar?" His voice was that of a humble man, overcome with emotion. I, myself, could not even say a word. All I was able to do was nod. He embraced me with the most comforting hug I could have ever received. Long had I waited to finally see my father again, never knowing whether he was dead or not. We just stood there, hugging in tears of joy. It was completely irrelevant at the time, but I thought to myself that I had cried a lot these past few months. As we let go, there was so much I wished to say to him. He put his arm around my shoulders and ushered me into the home I once knew. I was finally, finally home, where I belonged and where I would stay.

_Fin_


End file.
